Page 32 of Wild Card (Foster Bro Code #2)

Axel

I was buzzing with anticipation when I walked into Ink Anarchy. It’d been too long since I went under the tattoo gun.

Fox waved to me from his station in the back. Angel gave me the stink eye as I passed.

I winked at her. “You’ll always be my first choice, babydoll. Foxy just owed me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I better be.”

She was a small woman, five-foot-nothing with lots of curves, a mess of green hair piled in a bun, and enough tats to rival my bodyscape of ink. But she had enough attitude to make any man think twice about crossing her.

I blew her a kiss. “I’m all yours next time.”

She smirked. “Good. Tell Gray to get his ass back in here, too.”

“The man is taken.”

She stuck out her tongue. “You really think Emory is going to complain if I give his man some new art?”

Emory passed by. “He’s saving his skin for me!”

“Aw,” she crooned, “you two are sickening.”

Fox swept his gaze over me as I took a seat in his chair. My blood thrummed with excitement, much as it had when Dalton shoved his dick in my throat last night. Getting inked produced a surge of endorphins that always got me going.

“You’re overdressed,” he said. “You want to lift up the shirt or?—”

I pulled off my tank top and handed it to him. No point in having it bunched up around my chest or getting in his way.

Fox hung my shirt on a hook mounted on the wall, then hit the lever to recline the chair until I was lying damn near flat.

His gaze swept over my torso, and he brushed his fingers over my ribs. “This is where we’re thinking?”

“Yep. Emory gave you the artwork?”

“Yeah. Got it all prepped,” he said. “Em did gorgeous work.”

I wouldn’t call a skeletal hand holding poker cards gorgeous , but I knew what Fox meant. Emory was a heck of an artist.

“Hey, Ax.” Emory drew closer, a broom still in his hand. “Finally getting that poker tat?”

“Yeah. It’s going to look awesome. Thanks for drawing it for me.”

Pink tinted his cheeks. “I’m glad you like it.”

Fox nudged him. “Why don’t you get Axel started since it’s your design?”

He brightened. “Really? Cool.”

Emory set aside the broom and pulled on latex gloves. “This is going to look so amazing with all your other ink.”

I winked up at him. “Too bad you saw Gray first, huh? You could be drooling over me every night instead.”

He snorted. “Yeah, right. You’d have been one and done. Dalton is a braver man than me.”

“Dalton?” Fox asked, hovering behind and watching over Emory as he used thermal paper and a liquid solution to transfer the stenciled design to my ribs.

“Deputy Harvey,” Emory said. “Axel’s got him wrapped around his pinky finger.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I muttered, thinking about the way Dalton refused to keep his distance. Dalton was plenty assertive, and he knew just how to get me where he wanted me.

“How’s that?” Emory asked, peeling away the paper.

Fox leaned in. “Not bad. This edge didn’t transfer quite enough, see? But I can freehand that small bit.”

“Are you sure?” Emory said, sounding concerned.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want to do it with a larger part of the design—it’s your art, and I want to respect that—but this is no problem. Just pointing it out so you learn a little something.”

Emory flashed an uncertain smile. “I’ll do better next time.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Fox picked up his tattoo gun and rolled over on his stool. His eyes met mine. “Ready?”

“Do your worst.”

He lowered the gun, and a stinging sensation spread across my side. It was a deep, tingling sensation that I normally handled pretty easily.

I closed my eyes, trying to let the pain sweep into a tide of pleasure.

He shifted the gun, right over my rib now.

“Son of a bitch!” The pain intensified, and my limbs were starting to fucking tremble in response to the surge of adrenaline.

Emory made a sympathetic noise. “Is it too much?”

I gritted my teeth. “It’s a lot.” I blew out a big breath. “I can take it.”

Fox lifted the gun, giving me a moment of reprieve. “Let’s take five. Em, why don’t you get back to that project of yours? This will take a while.”

“Okay.” Emory patted my thigh. “Hang in there.”

Fox’s hand replaced his on my thigh, squeezing gently. “Take a few minutes to recenter. Do you want a drink?”

“Could use a shot of tequila about now.”

He chuckled. “That wouldn’t help as much as you think it would. I’ll grab you a Mountain Dew.”

I glanced up in surprise that he knew my drink.

“I’ve seen you here with Angel enough times. You always drink it. Or am I wrong?”

“No, that’s right. Thanks.”

When he got back, it still hurt like a bitch, but I had been through longer, more intense sessions. Twenty or thirty minutes in, I was floating in a kind of fugue state when my phone rang.

Fox paused. “Want to get that? Might be a nice distraction for you.”

I shifted to pull it out, gritting my teeth as my sore skin protested, and answered the call without looking at the screen. “Hey.”

“Axel, man, what the fuck is the holdup?”

Shit. It was Jett, and he sounded annoyed.

Fox lowered the tattoo gun, going back to work, buzzing loudly enough for Jett to notice.

“Are you getting a tattoo right now?”

“I sure am. Hurts like a bitch, too. Gonna look great, though.”

“You finally getting those poker cards?”

“Yep.” I blew out a breath. “Sorry I’ve been MIA, man. I just have a lot going on. This isn’t a good time for me.”

“So you’ve said,” Jett muttered. “Since when is there a bad time to make some cash, man? The natives are restless.”

“I know. It’s just…” I chewed my bottom lip. “I can’t exactly do it without Dalton noticing.”

“Dalton?”

Shit. “Deputy Harvey.”

“Jesus Christ, are you still fucking around with that guy? Just move on to someone else like you always do, and let’s get this shit done.”

I laughed grimly, the discomfort making me a little less delicate than usual. “Fuck off, man. You think if I ditch him, he’ll be less of a problem?”

“Fine, then let’s do it now while he’s all happy sucking your dick. Maybe he’ll look the other way.”

Fuck no. Everything in me rebelled at that idea. Dalton wasn’t that kind of guy. He believed in right and wrong.

“Just have some fucking patience,” I said. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Well, it better be soon. Enough stalling.”

He hung up on me, but that was just as well. I was about to tell him where he could stick his goddamn poker game.

I lowered my phone and closed my eyes.

“You good?” Fox checked in after a minute or maybe twenty. Who could even tell anymore?

“Yeah.” I realized it was true. My body had made the transition from pain to pleasure. I was floating in a cloud of euphoria. Damn. My cock was even hard. “Real good.”

Fox chuckled, a low and sexy rumble. “Yeah, I see that.”

“We almost done?”

“Mm-hmm. Is your guy nearby?”

“My guy?”

“The deputy.”

Oh. Right. Emory had told him I was with Dalton, and even if he hadn’t, my conversation with Jett would have given it away.

“He’s not my guy,” I protested, though it sounded weak even to me. “I don’t own him.”

“Ah, well…” Fox placed a hand on my thigh and leaned in close, murmuring into my ear. “Your dick’s so hard. Thought you might want some relief.”

My eyes cut to him. “You offering?”

He leaned back, lips curling, as he returned his focus to his work, filling in a few last details. The red stubble on his jaw glinted in the light. “Maybe.”

“What happened to your guy?” I asked.

“Didn’t work out.” He glanced at me. “Should have taken you up on your offer when you made it. Been kicking myself.”

This was normally where I’d flash him a grin and invite him to sample the dick he was eyeing up. Hell, Jett had the same as told me to get rid of Dalton and fuck someone else.

“Nah,” I said. “You were loyal. Don’t ever regret that.”

“Well, I don’t owe anyone loyalty now.” Fox lifted the gun, flashing me a killer grin. “Just say the word.”

I swallowed, my mouth dry. My cock was hard and throbbing in my jeans. I couldn’t seem to push any words past the lump in my throat.

Fox cleaned the tat, which was seeping blood, and then applied a clear film bandage. “Do I need to give you the aftercare instructions?”

“I know what I’m doing.”

He nodded and pulled off his gloves. “All right. We’re finished.” He put his hand on my bare abs, just above my waistband, his wrist brushing my hard-on. “Unless we’re not?”

I flinched away, pain flaring, and rolled off the table. My reaction had been instinctive. I just kept hearing Dalton’s growl in my ear, Tell me I’m the only one. His stern words this morning. We’re more than fucking. His smile when he left after breakfast today. Miss me already, huh?

Jett’s belligerent words were circling my head too, but I batted them away like mosquitoes. Nobody told me who to fuck or not fuck. Nobody but Dalton, anyway.

Tell me I’m the only one.

“Sorry,” Fox said, eyes wide. “I didn’t mean to…”

“No worries. Can I get my shirt?”

Emory drifted out, eyes shifting to my bandaged side. He’d been in and out during the tattoo phase, observing a lot of the work. He was still a little squeamish about watching people in pain. He’d have to get over that.

“Wow, it looks fantastic. Fox did an amazing job.”

I craned my head to look down at Fox’s handiwork. Emory’s too. It looked totally badass, exactly the vibe I wanted. Even though Emory had designed it, Fox had a certain flair that stood out in the ink.

“It’s perfect,” I said, glancing up to catch Fox’s gaze as he held out my shirt. “Thank you.”

“Hey, Emory!” Angel called. “Do you mind checking out my client?”

“Sure thing,” he said, flitting away to the front of the shop.

I carefully put on my shirt, moving delicately.

“Sorry, man,” Fox said. “I misread the situation. I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s all right. Any other time, I’d have eaten that up. Guess I’m on a diet.”

“The deputy, huh? That’s some balls, hooking up with a guy like that.”

I chuckled. “Well, you know me. I like to play with fire.”

“Part of your charm,” Fox said with a grin.

I dug into my pocket and pulled out two twenties.

“You already paid,” he said.